


Keeping it Casual

by ariesphinx



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-19 11:32:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10638981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariesphinx/pseuds/ariesphinx
Summary: Hermione has an important choice to make- she just doesn't know it yet.I suck at summaries. Give it a try, like, and review!





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Very AU; the characters do not belong to me.

She sat across from him. Observing his features, his eyes, his mouth, and that scar he has right above his left eyebrow. He was a very attractive man. Definitely on the athletic side, but particularly after the failed relationship with Luke, she learned she likes them manly.

He is smart, and well-spoken and can mostly keep up with her. They had four happy years and to this day she still wonders exactly what happened.

Well, she knows what happened. She was working a lot, he was working a lot. She was traveling a lot and so was he. They were never home and when they were, spending time with family and friends took precedence to building a romantic relationship. And then the relationship became burden. Promises not kept, dates cancelled. So they called it quits. She has always believed that they could have been happy, the timing just wasn't right.

"Hermione? Did you hear me?"

But before she could come up with explanation to her silence, he repeated the question that led her back into her memories.

"Will you marry me, Hermione?"


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione stares at her ex for a couple of heartbeats and decides to err on the side of complete honesty.

"Viktor... is this a joke?"

He had called her about two weeks ago asking her to brunch at their traditional brunch place. While the call wasn't expected, she knew he was busy with practice, it was not that surprising either, as they ended on good terms and this fell comfortably in the category of brunch with friends. She easily agreed and was looking forward to reconnecting.

She and Victor had met during the Triwizard Tournament and kept in touch through most of the war. While they dated briefly at Hogwarts, their romantic relationship really develop during the war. He was her dream then, someone she thought of when she needed to hold on to a positive vision of the future. During the worst war days, she would dream that they were going to reconnect after the war, start dating and get married. They were going to have two beautiful kids and argue about where to send them to school. She would win, of course, and both would go to Hogwarts.

And part of that dream actually came true.

Shortly after the war, she and Viktor reconnected. At first, they remained good friends. Visiting each other whenever he came to London for a game or she went to Sofia for work. He continued his dominance in Quidditch, becoming the most celebrated Quidditch player in the history of the game, while Hermione went to college, law school, and became the most respected solicitor in the Ministry.

About eight years ago, after Hermione was his guest of honor and watched Viktor almost single handedly beat the Argentinian national team to again win the Quidditch World Cup, he finally asked her out. She immediately said yes, and the rest is history.

He was a good boyfriend and they dated until they didn't. Their relationship always seemed better in theory than in practice. They seemed so well matched on paper. Everyone said so. The Quidditch hero, the political rising star, the tabloids' favorite couple. But there was never a lot of passion and eventually romantic love turned into less than romantic love and they both agreed that it would be best to part ways.

"Vik, this is a joke, right?"

"I know this may seem out of the blue, Hermione, but I have thought a lot about it and I truly believe we could make a great life together." He responded with such calm that she almost wondered if they were having the same conversation.

"Our relationship was improperly timed." He continue, "we were really married instead of dating. But we were young and wanted the excitement of dating and under appreciated the stability of marriage. I have dated in the past year,"

"A lot, I seem to recall," Hermione interrupted recalling the many pictures of him parading around with supermodels, the smile on her face belying her words making it clear she was just teasing him.

"Yes, I have dated some," he says with a smile, "and that is how I know that I will never meet anyone like you. Anyone as smart, and kind, and brave as you. And now that I am at a place in my life where I can appreciate building a life with someone, where I seek the future mother of my children, you are the only person I can think of who I would want in that role."

"Blimey, Viktor, you are actually serious," was all she could say in response.

"I am serious, Hermione. And am I far off? Does my reasoning not make sense to you?"

The crazy part of it is that it did. She herself has had similar thoughts. Now at the age of thirty-two, she had wondered what her life would be like had she and Viktor stayed together. He was a good man, and will be a great husband and father one day.

"Honestly Viktor, I would be lying if I told you I haven't thought about it as well. And that I don't agree with your general reasoning. But our issues were real and have not changed. Do you feel passion for me? Or do you just think I would be an acceptable wife?" Hermione asked, taking a sip of her now cold coffee, mostly to keep herself occupied.

She has always been self-conscious at the lack of passion in their relationship. Always blamed herself for his lack of interest in her. Always thought she should have done more, been more adventurous, dressed in a more alluring way, done something different with her hair. Wincing at the cold bitterness of her drink, she waited for him to answer.

"You are more than acceptable, Hermione, I hope you know that. And passion is fleeting, what we feel for each other is not. It survived a war."

Viktor looked at her with such earnestness. Such love that she felt compelled to hold his hand across the table. She looked at the man she used to love. They had always made such good sense on paper and his reasoning was sound.

Krum promised to give her some time to think. Two weeks to be exact. They moved to lighter topics of conversation. With Hermione catching Viktor up on the work she is doing to implement the Anti-Discrimination Act that she wrote and was the political force behind its passage. And Viktor telling Hermione about some of the new recruits for the British team and how proud he was of his players.


	3. Chapter 3

"Finally, what the fuck took you so long!?"

Draco exclaimed just as Hermione sat down across from him and Harry. "We almost left and went home." He said taking a sip of a mostly empty glass of wine.

Ignoring him, Hermione turns with a smile to her oldest friend, "what's got his panties in a bunch?"

"He can't tell if the waiter is gay and driving him mad. Apparently 'I'm no help'" Harry responds affecting his voice to sound more like his boyfriend of six years. And while Draco rolls his eyes at the two friend, the waiter in question returns to take Hermione's drink order.

After quickly looking through the menu, she orders the cab franc and just as the waiter walks away, she turns to Draco and whispers, "there is no way that man is straight."

"Thank you!" Draco exclaims with a theatrically loud voice, and says, with a faux exasperated voice towards his boyfriend, "see, she knows how to play the game."

"But seriously," he continues, turning back to Hermione, just as the wine glass is deposited in front of her, "where the fuck were you? You are never late."

"Brunch with Viktor went long and I was a bit anxious after it and went for a long run." She explained, take a quick sip from her glass. "I lost track of time, I am so sorry for my tardiness."

"Why were you anxious?" Harry asks, reaching out to his oldest friend, clearly concerned about his friend.

"Viktor asked me to marry him." Hermione answered, downing more than half of her wine as she let the news sink.

"What...that's...how...what!?" Draco attempted to respond.

"Well, do five more hours of that and you will be where I am right now." Hermione responds, finishing her glass of wine. "I need more wine." She says signaling the waiter for another glass.

"Are you serious?" Harry finally asks.

Nodding yes, Hermione looks at her friend seeking help. 

"You are not really considering it, are you?" Draco asked, concerned about what he knew the answer to be. He never really liked Krum. 

"His reasoning was solid."

"So romantic." Draco responds, his voice dripping with sarcasm, clearly opposed to the idea. He continued, "in case you forgot, please remember that you and 'Viktor the Dull' never spent any time together, never had sex, and when you did have sex you complained about it being 'quick and bumpy.' Why would you ever commit to quick bumpy sex for ever and ever?"

"That was one time! He wasn't..." Hermione started to defend.

"Did you guys even like each other? It mostly just felt like political theater" Draco interrupted, now annoyed as it seemed that Hermione really was considering it.

"We loved and still love each other. It was just not the right time for us then... it might be now." Hermione answers, new glass at hand.

"You really are considering this..." Harry states, no question as he knew his friend enough to know the answer to that.

"I want a family, I want kids. And say what you will about Viktor, he would be a good co-parent. Viktor fits well with my life and I fit with his. This could work."

There was silence- the three friends each individually thinking through all the options when Harry interrupts the silence and says, "you deserve love."

Sighing, Hermione whispers, "maybe," and then much louder and before Harry cuts in she continues, "but maybe not the love you guys have. Maybe my destined love is more..."

"Sexless." Draco interrupts haughtily.

"...of a partnership." Hermione finishes.

"Look, I don't think you guys understand how luck you are. Yours is a once in a lifetime love. But most of us have everyday love. Yes, there wasn't a lot of passion or adventure, but my everyday was better with Viktor in it. That might have to be good enough for me. That might be all I get." Hermione explained, sorrow permeating her voice, hoping that this would be the end of it. 

It wasn't.

Dinner did not get any less contentious. Draco spent most of it listing all the reasons why marrying Viktor was a horrible idea while Hermione attempted to defend her past and possibly future relationship.

Harry didn't say much until the very end of the dinner when he finally stated, "it makes some political sense. The Minister of Magic and the President of the International Quidditch Association. You and Viktor would be a political powerhouse."

And over Draco yelling, "love, don't encourage her..."

Hermione interrupted, "I am not the Minister of Magic."

But Harry quickly took back the floor pointing out, "but you will be, you are already the most accomplished Section Chief at the Ministry and the Civil Rights Section will continue to grow under you, and politically this partnership makes sense."

And that was the last that was said on the topic for the rest of the dinner.


	4. Chapter 4

 "How's tweedledee and tweedledum?" Was the first thing Hermione heard has she walked back into her apartment. Ginny, her roommate, was sitting in front of the television watching a Quidditch match. 

"They are fine and they say hi." Hermione responded, sitting next to her friend.

Things between Harry, Draco and Ginny were better now but they were  really  bad for a long time. Shortly after the war ended, Harry and Ginny married.  However  , it turned out, that was a horrible mistake.  A mistake that ended about six years ago, when Harry confessed to Ginny that he had fallen in love with his Auror partner and former enemy, Draco Malfoy  . The divorce was ugly, with friends picking sides and a lot of press coverage. After the divorce, Ginny took off to America and lived away for over two years.  She returned around the time Hermione and Viktor were breaking up so moving into Hermione's flat made a lot of sense .

Ginny, still avoiding any long conversations about Harry, pointed towards garment bag by the door, and changed the subject, "your dress for tomorrow's gala arrived  ."  And while Hermione walked towards the door to take a quick look at the dress, Ginny continued, "do you need company for that ?" It wasn't uncommon for Ginny to go as Hermione's date since the break-up with Viktor. Waiting for a response, Ginny turns down the volume of the tv. 

"No, it will be such a boring affair that my plan is to leave super fast. I  just  need to be there for the awards ceremony."  Hermione answered, returning to the couch, taking off her shoes, and putting her feet up at the coffee table  . She still felt  slightly  buzzed- she always drank too much with Harry and Draco- and wanted to sit down.

"What a difficult life you lead," Ginny  gently  mocked her friend. "So many awards, so little time. What is it this time?" 

 "Its  just  a recognition for the passing of the Anti-Discrimination Act.  They are recognizing people who have worked to improve the Wizarding World post-Dark Lord ."

"Who else is going?" Ginny asked,  barely  interested in the conversion anymore. Turning her attention to the tv.

"I am not sure..." Hermione paused, trying to remember the names on the invitation. "Oh, actually, Fleur will be there.  She is being recognized for the work she has been doing to return art and possessions stolen by the Death Eaters to their rightful owners ."

"Oh Phlem!" Ginny asked, her opinions on Fleur clear, "how is she doing now that she is all done breaking my brother's heart?" Ginny asked.

"Don't be so dramatic, Gin. Last I hear, Bill is doing  just  fine. Isn't he dating someone? Deb?... Anyway, I am not sure, we lost touch post-divorce. Haven't  really  talked to her since she moved back to Paris."

The silence stretched between friends. Both paying attention to the tv.  Ginny trying to avoid thinking too hard about the struggles and divorces in her family and Hermione, returning to the conversations with Viktor and with Draco and Harry .

"What's with you?" Ginny finally asks, noticing that something was off with her friend.

"Nothing," Hermione lies, hoping that Ginny will drop the issue, but with one look at her friend, she know that Ginny is not about to drop this  . "I  just  can't get into it right now, Draco yelled at me all through dinner because of it and I need a break."

"Wait you told my cheating ex and his hussy of a boyfriend this news but won't tell me me?"  Ginny teases, knowing that this line  normally  gets Hermione to do almost anything she asks .

"Fine!" Hermione says with faux-exasperation. Happy now that Ginny can joke about the situation. "But I need you to promise not to overreact."

Ginny lifts her hand in surrender, her way of assuring her friend that she won't say anything and Hermione continues, "Viktor asked me to marry him ."

"WHAT THE FUCK?!?!" Ginny exclaimed.

 "You promised not to over-react!"  Hermione responds, moving away from her friend hoping to avoid another dragged out talk about this .

"Uhm, no. This is not overreacting- this is the appropriate reaction. When your absent ex-boyfriend reappears from no where and proposes? 'What the fuck' is the correct respond." Ginny responds, turning off the television, now completely focused on the conversation.

"Are you marrying him?" Ginny continued.

"Honestly  ,  maybe." Hermione answers.

"Well, for what is worth,  I think  it would be a mistake." Ginny responds, now much calmer than before.

"And why is that?" Hermione asks, too tired to try to get into another argument about this.

"You deserve more," Ginny says, "much more." 

And the friends left it that.


	5. Chapter 5

“You are a vision, mon amie.”

Hermione took a second to smile at the statement before turning around. She knew exactly who it was, she could recognize that soft, innocent yet sensual voice anywhere. The sight when she finally turned around was one for sore eyes. There stood Fleur Delacour, in all her glory, wearing a dark navy gown, the color of which highlighted her eyes in such a way that made them look wild and dangerous.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Delacour.” Hermione responds, walking and taking in her friend in a long embrace.

The relationship between the two women, Hermione and Fleur, was a complicated one. At first, Hermione really didn’t care for Fleur. Assumed, as most do when they meet the petite blonde, that she was a pretty face, with no brains, who used her thrall to manipulate people. Fleur had similarly unkind thoughts towards the brunette, who she considered an arrogant and self-righteous know-it-all.

At some point during the war, that disdain morphed into respect, with Hermione being impressed by Fleur’s smarts and magical ability, and Fleur amazed at the younger woman’s heroism through it all.

That respect, eventually, turned into a strong friendship. Fleur and Hermione had been quite close for over 10 years. That all ended 2 years ago, when following what seemed to be an amicable divorce between Bill and Fleur, she left London for Paris. Hermione tried to call her friend many times but had been summarily ignored.

“It is so good to see you, Mia. It’s been too long.” Fleur said, using a nickname she alone had for Hermione.

“And whose fault is that,” Hermione quickly responded, having trouble keeping the bitterness from her statement.

“Mine, all mine.” Fleur answered quickly and with conviction, only her downcast eyes an indication that she was ashamed by her absence. “But I am back in London now and ready to, as you say in Britain, eat crow.”

Still holding her friend in her embrace, having moved back only slightly so she could look at the shorter woman in the eyes, Fleur continued, “I am so sorry, any chance you will let me apologize to you profusely? Maybe with some home baked croissants?”

“Are you bribing me with food?” Hermione answered, a smile on her face, “because that is low, Delacour, even for you.” Hermione finished, finally moving away from her friend.

“What can I say,” Fleur responds, mirth in her voice, “I am Veela and we don’t play fair.” And reaching for her friend’s hand, she continued, “but in all seriousness, I am sorry, Mia. I am truly sorry.”

“I know,” Hermione answers, two years of anger slowly dissipating, “but it doesn’t mean that I don’t still hurt. You were a good friend Fleur… I could have been there for you. I wanted to be there for you. And I have needed you, many times.”

The friends are quiet for a second, the noise of the event surrounding them, both not really knowing how to move on from this place. But, taking a leap of faith, squeezing her friend’s hand before finally letting it go, Hermione continued, “but what is this I hear about eating crow?”

\-------

The event was as much of a bore as Hermione had predicted. A lot of handshakes, a lot of fake air kisses, many lining up to congratulate her, even those who had opposed her prior to the passage of the bill; specially those who had opposed her.

However, she found herself enjoying the event. She wasn’t sure if it was part of ‘eating crow’ but Fleur had been extra attentive to her. Getting her drinks, helping her out of difficult conversations, helping her, an introvert, navigate the room with the ease of an extrovert.

And Hermione absorbed as much as Fleur’s attention as she could. She leaned into Fleur’s touch, standing always precariously close to her friend. She let the hand on the small of her back guide her through the room.

Three hours after arriving- two hours longer than she thought she would stay- she finally decided to leave the event. As she said her final goodbye to a colleague at the Ministry, Hermione turn to find Fleur by the door, ready to leave and holding her coat out to her.

\-------

The two women walked side-by-side, rehashing the night’s events. Hands brushing occasionally, and if anyone asked accidently, the two walked the 15 minutes to Fleur’s apartment. Hermione’s feet were hurting, not used to wearing heels, but she didn’t want to leave. She didn’t want to leave her friend’s presence.

It unnerved her that she couldn’t really understand what was happening between them. They had always been close, so close that prior to Fleur marrying Bill, Ginny had jokingly accused Hermione of having a girl-crush.

And through their decade long friendship, they had continued to be close, but this, this felt…new.  
Fleur’s lingering looks were overt, resting a bit too long on Hermione’s lips. Fleur’s hand at the small of her back was more than supportive, it was possessive and it burned through her dress. The heat from Fleur’s hand both comforting and disconcerting. Fleur’s presence close behind her both calming and exciting.

Fleur was sharing with Hermione the details for her sister’s Gabrielle’s upcoming wedding when they finally arrived at Fleur’s condo. At that, the friends were left with two choices: say goodbye or go upstairs together. The silence at that realization was piercing.

Seeing the discomfort in her friend’s eyes, Fleur decided to take leave, “Mia, it was lovely seeing you…we should to this again...” After waiting several heartbeats for her friend to say something anything back, Fleur finally caved and asked, “you okay?”

“May I be blunt?” Hermione asked in response.

“I have never known you to be anything but,” Fleur answered, now slightly anxious. She figured out where Hermione wanted to take this conversation but felt unprepared for this turn of events.

“What were you doing tonight?” Hermione asked, avoiding eye contact.

“Me? …Doing?” Fleur asked.

“This. What was this tonight?” Hermione asked, annoyance at her friend’s avoidance evident in her voice. Not waiting for Fleur to answer, Hermione continued, “you flirted with me.”

“Actually, no. It was more than flirting. I wouldn’t be surprised if after tonight half the wizarding world thinks we are an item. So, yeah, what were you doing?”

Stepping closer to Hermione, and making eye contact for the first time since they stopped walking, Fleur said, as if to answer the question, “you look truly beautiful tonight, Mia. And, for the first time in a long time, we are both unattached. I think I just couldn’t help but flirt with you.”

Hermione just stared at her friend. She felt the heat of Fleur’s desire, her intensity almost taking her breath away.

Fleur, interpreting Hermione’s silence for rejection, took a step back and continued, levity gone, “also whatever it is I did, I didn’t do it alone. So,” crossing her arms and taking, for the first time that evening, a defensive posture, “what were you doing, Granger?”

And in that second, it all flashed in her mind. Viktor’s proposal, Draco’s judgment, Harry’s unconditional support, Ginny’s disappointment, Fleur’s incandescence. And like a moth to a flame, summoning all the confidence she had, she leaned close towards her friend and responded, “you look truly beautiful tonight, Fleur. And, for the first time in a long time, we are both unattached. I think I just couldn’t help but flirt back.”

And before she even understood her response and what it meant, she felt soft lips on her lips, and demanding hands on her hips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the reviews and the notes! They are always lovely! 
> 
> I have most of the story outlined but like to make changes based on reader notes :)


	6. Chapter 6

Hermione woke up to the faint noises of someone messing around in a kitchen. She was in an unfamiliar room, with a queen-sized comfortable bed, white linen curtains through which the sun shined casting a soft yellow glow around the sparsely decorated room. Aside from the bed, a reading chair by the window, and several boxes at the other end of the bedroom, the large bedroom is mostly empty. 

Things progressed fast after the kiss downstairs. While, at first, Hermione was caught by surprise by Fleur’s kiss, she soon caught-up and fervently kissed back. Once their make-out session became inappropriate for the sidewalk, Hermione did not hesitate in accepting Fleur invitation to go upstairs for “a nightcap.” 

Discarding their clothes, Fleur guided Hermione to her bedroom. And after pushing the brunette onto her bed, and confirming consent, Fleur slowly, passionately, and meticulously took every part of Hermione in her mouth. 

\---- 

As the smell of coffee permeated the bedroom, Hermione pushed herself up and looked around for clothes. Her dress was nowhere to be found, likely still on the ground by the kitchen island. Stretching, she could feel muscles that hadn’t been worked out in a while and smiled at the realization that was sore from sexual activity- that had absolutely never happened to her before. 

Eyes cast down, looking at her naked body, Hermione was flooded with memories from the night before. She remembered Fleur’s mouth, everywhere. Fleur’s hands, on and inside of her. Fleur’s breasts, against her own and pushing against her back. Fleur’s arms, around her, as she fell asleep. 

Feeling herself getting wet, Hermione allowed herself to recall what it felt to have Fleur beneath her, moaning in her mouth, longing for her kiss, desperate to be filled. Allowing her hands to roam against her own breasts, Hermione closed her eyes remembering pushing against Fleur, taking her in deeper, with an abandon she didn’t recognize, as Fleur took her from behind. 

She never felt so shameless, so unrestrained as she had felt the night before. She squeezed her legs shut at the wetness, and at the remembrance of Fleur’s taste in her mouth, the way the blonde’s thighs felt against her face. She lost count of how many times she entered the blonde, lost count of how many times she felt Fleur fill her. 

She knew she was losing control, she felt ashamed at her eagerness, her desperation to take Fleur again, to have Fleur take her. It was already unlike her to fuck with such abandon for an entire night, it was particularly unlike her that she was not done with the blonde. She wanted more, much more. In a way that felt endless and desperate.

As Hermione heard the blonde finish making the coffee, she took a deep breath and tried to calm her racing pulse. She didn’t want to seem too eager, too intense, too much. After all, she had no idea what last night had meant and she was painfully aware of the Veela’s one-night stand reputation. 

It wasn’t long until she heard Fleur opening the door to the bedroom. She turned to see the blonde with a large tray of coffee and homemade croissants. Unable to stop a smile from forming, Hermione asked, “is that my promised bribe?”

“Well, I did promise you homemade croissants…” Fleur responded, as she rejoined Hermione in bed. Carefully taking the sight of the brunette naked, in her bed. “You are aroused,” Fleur whispered, causing her voice to become heavy with desire.

Hermione was embarrassed by her obviousness, but curiosity won over and she had to know, “is that a Veela thing?” she asked. She had always been curious about the blonde’s Veela heritage but Fleur was always reluctant to discuss it and always careful to highlight that she was only a quarter-Veela which meant that there were many Veela traits and skills that she did not possess.

Waiting for an answer, Hermione reached for the coffee but kept her eyes on the blonde’s as she roamed her body. The desire in the blonde’s eyes making her even more aroused. 

“Yes, now that I know what your pheromons smell like, I am able to identify them. But pray tell, Mia, what has gotten you so hot and bothered?” She asked, mirth in her voice, as she sipped her coffee and ate her pastries. 

Having given up any pretense of shyness, Hermione answered honestly. “You…us…last night.” 

“It was pretty special, wasn’t it?” Fleur whispered to her friend, suddenly shy. That surprised Hermione. And that surprise was evident in her face causing Fleur to raise an eyebrow at her friend so as to inquire why.

“Yes, it was special.” Hermione said, and so as to answer the unasked question she continued, “it was special for me. I didn’t expect it to have been as special for you,” she finished just as she saw a flash of hurt cross Fleur’s expression. 

“Because I am Veela?” Fleur asked, understanding her friend’s thought process but still offended by the assumption. Hermione, to her credit, felt embarrassed and guilty for causing her friend any pain. 

“I am sorry, Fleur. I didn’t mean to offend.” Hermione said, taking the blonde’s hand in her hands, softly kissing her knuckles, hoping to alleviate some of the discomfort she had caused. Fleur just looked at her, and with a nod allowed her to continue.

“Its just that you are more experienced than me, and while last night was a radical departure from my regular Friday evenings,” Hermione joked so as to add some levity to the conversation, “I know you had a more exciting social life than I do.” 

While hurt at her friend’s assumption, Fleur understood. She did have more experience than the average woman in her early 30s. She was Veela after all, even if only a quarter. Besides, her social life had become significant more “exciting” since the divorce, as she decided to deal with that heartbreak by sleeping with as many members of Paris’ muggle and wizarding community as she could. 

“Are you calling me a slut, Mia?” Fleur asked, the tone in her voice indicating that she was joking. A joke lost on the still apologetic witch. 

“Absolutely not!” Hermione answered. “I would never call anyone that… you are just more experienced than me.” Hermione answered, holding tight to Fleur’s hand, hoping she wasn’t ruining their morning. “And I would be lying if I didn’t confess to worrying that you would be bored by me…” 

“I am just kidding, Mia. And while, yes, I am likely more experienced than you, last night was undeniably special.”

“You promise?’ Hermione asked, insecurity evident in her voice.

“Are you kidding? Mia, you devoured me with a dedication of a scholar.” Hermione blushed at her friend’s compliment but Fleur continued, now moving closer to the brunette, letting her robe fall open to reveal her naked body, “you studied my body, my every response and by the end of the night, you were an expert.” Dropping her voice to a husky whisper, Fleur concluded, saying, “while I am surprised that you are as dedicated to your sexual knowledge as you are to general knowledge, it was a… repeatedly pleasant surprise.”

Thoughts left Hermione’s brain at the sensuality of it all. It was truly the first time she was completely thoughtless. And as if on instinct, she couldn’t help but reach into the open robe, and gently touch Fleur’s breast. Hearing Fleur’s breathing hitch, she noticed a bruise, a bite, and knew that she was the one who had marked the Veela. She first thought to apologize, but knew that it would sound disingenuous. She wasn’t sorry, she was proud. She, Hermione, a woman who had been called by exes “frigid,” whose boyfriends had all lost interest in her sexually, had taken and marked the beautiful blonde Veela- one of the most desired women in all of the Wizarding World. 

And it was this confidence that allowed her to accept the fact that she wanted to take Fleur again, she wanted the Veela under her, submissive, begging to be fucked. She wanted to give Fleur a night to remember, a weekend to remember. Regardless of what happened between them moving forward, even if the Veela did get bored with her tomorrow or in a week, she wanted this moment to be branded in Fleur’s memory forever. So she continued her journey down the blonde’s chest, and relished the feeling of Fleur shuddering at her touch. 

“Mia, you are very aroused...” Fleur started to say, overwhelmed by Hermione’s smell and her touch, but was quickly interrupted by Hermione responding, “I am not Veela, Fleur, but I am willing to bet I am not the only one.” And with that Hermione ended her journey down Fleur’s upper body, moaning at the wetness that met her, and started pumping into the blonde. Fleur, opened herself completely up to the brunette, back arched, following the rhythm the Hermione was setting. 

And that is how they spent their entire weekend, eating French pastries, drinking coffee, and sharing in each others’ bodies. 

Both unaware of the magic being released by their love-making, magic that slowly bonded the two women to each other, forever.


	7. Chapter 7

“Where the fuck have you been?” Ginny asked just as Hermione walked back into her apartment at the end of the day on Monday.

“You have been cursing a lot more since you started teaching.” Hermione observed as she takes her seat opposite her roommate. Monday night was roommate dinner night and Ginny had ordered Chinese food for the occasion.

“Well, I can’t curse around 4 year olds, which means I save it all for you.” Ginny joked.

Ginny had chosen to be a homemaker during her marriage to Harry and had felt quite purposeless following the divorce. That was until an old friend, Luna Lovegood, reached offering a kindergarten teaching position which Ginny took immediately upon returning to London. It turns out Ginny is a spectacular teacher and absolutely loves her job.

And then she continued with a smile, “so… don’t make me fucking curse again and fucking tell me…where the fuck were you all fucking weekend?”

Hermione tried to start her sentence a number of times, all ending in her taking a deep breath and attempting to restart that sentence. Ginny watched her friend’s reluctance for about 30 seconds until she couldn’t take it anymore and interrupted, saying “well, well, if it isn’t the brightest witch of her generation making poor decisions.”

“What makes you think it was a poor decision?” Hermione asks, delaying an answer to the redhead’s original question.

“Two things. The fact that you can’t answer a simple question and the fact that you have a huge hickey on your neck.” Ginny said, digging into her food.

A look of complete and utter panic crossed Hermione’s face as she struggled to get up from the table and run to the closest mirror, Ginny grabs her arm and laughs at her friend’s panic. “I am just kidding. I am kidding, there is no hickey. But that response tells me that there could have been a hickey. So, Ms. Granger, spill…”

“Merlin, Ginny, you bitch. I was in court all day! I thought I had just walked around oblivious to a hickey on my neck.” As the panic subsides, she smacks her friend’s shoulder and joins her laughing.

After the laughing died down, the friends ate in silence for several heartbeats.

Hermione trying to come up with the words to tell her friend about her weekend and Ginny waited, unwilling to let Hermione off the hook but willing to let her take some time to compose herself.

“I spent the weekend with Fleur.” Hermione finally said, unable to meet her friend’s eyes.

Several more heartbeats pass between friends.

“That was unexpected.” Ginny answered, still unsure how to respond to the information.

Setting down her fork she continued, “well, she did always seem to like you more than she liked my brother.”

“What?” Hermione exclaimed, both surprised by her friend’s subdued reaction and by her statement. “What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing more than what I said,” Ginny continues, “you two were always really close. Bill and Fleur hadn’t really been close since the end of the war. I was surprised they didn’t divorce earlier.”

Not sure of how to answer, Hermione just continued to eat in silence. She had spent the day preparing herself for judgment, cursing, and yelling. This, an immediately understanding Ginny, she wasn’t sure how to handle. Not that Ginny wasn’t understanding, she was, it just took her a couple of days.

“Was it good?” Ginny asked, “I mean I would assume so, she certainly has had practice…”

“Don’t be mean, Ginny.” Hermione responded, clearly put off by her friend’s statement and remembering Fleur’s sadness when she herself had made a similar assumption.

“I am not being mean. She has had practice. Bill even joked that he thinks she returned to London because she ran out of people to fuck in Paris.” Ginny stated.

While their age difference had meant the Ginny and Bill had not grown up together, they had become much closer since their divorces. It seems that the experience had brought them together.

“How is Bill?” Hermione asked, trying to change the topic of conversation to Ginny’s weekend. She knew the redhead had met her brothers for dinner Saturday night.

“He is well. So is Ron, he says hi by the way. Complained about you never calling anymore. Charlie floo’ed in but didn’t stay long. And George… well, he is George.” The Weasley twin had never truly recovered from his twin brother’s death.

“Bill and Fleur had lunch on Friday.” Ginny continued, bringing the topic of conversation back to Hermione’s weekend. “They are trying to be friends,” Ginny shared but felt the need to continue, “and I think it’s a bad idea... I think she is a bad idea.” Ginny said, that last part clearly directed at Hermione.

“Why would it be a bad idea for Bill and Fleur to reconnect? They were married for over ten years, they once meant a lot to each other.” Hermione responded, choosing to ignore the part of the statement that clearly referred to her.

“Because Fleur lied to him, manipulated him into marrying her…”

“He was the one who cheated on her,” Hermione tried to jump in and defend the blonde but Ginny didn’t stop, “after he learned that she lied to him,” Ginny concluded.

“Fleur is selfish. When she wants something, she will do anything to get it. She lies, she manipulates, regardless of the consequences. And this weekend, it seems, she wanted you.”

“I hope you had fun,” Ginny said and seeing the skeptical look Hermione gave her, she clarified, “I really do. You have needed a good lay for years,” Ginny said, smiling to her friend, only half joking.

“But don’t catch feelings for Fleur. She will eventually get bored of you like she got bored with Bill, and apparently all of Paris, and I can’t deal with another person in my life obsessed with that woman.” But Ginny wasn’t done, she continued, laughing, “and I guess this can be good. You are getting your freaky on before you marry Viktor the Bummer.”

Despite herself, Hermione laughed with her friend, “you and Draco and the nicknames…” she said.

“Well, I guess its good to know that we have more in common than wanting to bone my husband,” Ginny joked. “But seriously Hermione, do have fun, I am sure blondie is a good lay, but keep it casual, and for Merlin’s sake, if she tells you that you are her mate, runaway as fast as you can…”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter since I am leaving for vacation for a couple of days- so it will be a little while before updating. 
> 
> Review away! :)

The knock on the door startled Fleur, it was late Monday night and she wasn’t expecting anyone. She had spent most of the time after work cleaning the apartment, unpacking, and listening to music. She felt a peace deep within her, unlike anything she had ever felt before. 

She decided to attribute it to being back in London.

Somehow since the war, dreary London had become her home. After the divorce, she had left the city for Paris, assuming that she would feel more at ease in her home country. However, she was sorely mistaken. 

She felt restless in Paris, constantly searching for something she couldn’t and knew she wouldn’t find. She reconnected with old friends, and spent a lot of time with her family, hoping that surrounding herself with the familiar would alleviate her endless longing. But it never did. 

She moved from the familiar to the foreign, hoping to distract herself from the longing by constantly changing her environment. And instead of friends and family, she decided to surround herself with lovers, many and varied. 

It was never as bad or extreme as the rumors made it sound like it was, people loved to gossip, and her love life became a source of much gossip for the wizarding world. But she did take on a number of lovers, both female and male, both human and magical. 

The constant newness helped- it was distracting and fun for a while. But it was never fulfilling. And so, after two years in Paris, she decided to return to London and re-build her life. 

Getting up from her reading chair, Fleur walked towards the door as her guest knocked, a second, more forceful time. 

It was her sister, Gabrielle. 

“Come in…” she says, as a joke, as her sister storms past her and sits on her couch. She looks frantic. “Are you okay?” She asks, as she takes in her sister’s state. 

“I need you to tell me yours and Bill’s story again…” Gabrielle says, in full panic mode. 

“Oh Merlin, no Gabby, I have told you this story a million times. You can’t keep making me re-live the worst mistake of my life every time you have the wedding jitters.” Fleur says, sitting opposite her sister on the coffee table. Annoyed at what had become a common request and resigned to the fact that she would do whatever her sister wanted her to do. 

“I am so sorry, Fleur. I know I am asking you to pick at a still open wound but I am so afraid. What if Patrick and I aren’t meant to be? What if what I felt when I met him was like what you felt when you met Bill? What if I too am wrong?” The younger sister explained, openly sobbing. 

Fleur knew that her story had become a warning lesson to part-Veelas everywhere. That moms and dads told their children the story of the stupid blonde quarter-Veela who mistook what she now assumes was just lust for true love. That mistake is Fleur’s greatest shame, it is her greatest regret. Three is so much she wishes she had done differently. 

“Tell me again about you and Bill.” Gabrielle pleaded with her sister. 

So Fleur took a deep breath and started on a story she had told many many times before: 

“We met at Number 12, Grimmauld Place. It was my first meeting of the Order, after I joined the resistance against the Dark Lord. Miles out from the house, I started to feel the Veela push against my skin, as if propelling me forward towards the hidden door. It was like it knew where I needed to go, even though I had never been at the house and had no idea where it was located.”

Fleur, now sitting by her sister, running her fingers through Gabrielle’s hair who was now lying on her lap, continued,

“We walked into the main living room and there they were, several members of the Order of the Phoenix. The Veela kept pushing, it kept tugging, wanting me to pay attention. Wanting me to look around, letting me know that this was a special moment. It was then that my eyes met Bill’s. He was so handsome, his eyes had so much life. His red hair loose, over his shoulders. He took my breath away. I felt our connecting in my soul.”

“We made love that night, after I told him that he was my mate. I knew it was premature but we were just so happy, it felt that in the midst of pain and devastation we had found something worth fighting for, something worth dying for. We married three weeks after that first meeting” 

“Then what happened, Fleur, what went wrong?” Gabrielle asked, voice low, sad. She knew it was unfair to make her sister re-live that moment but it was all still so confusing to her. Yes, they were only one-quarter Veela, but the Veela’s call is clear. It didn’t make any sense that Fleur would make such a big mistake. And if her sister could make that mistake, then anyone could. And maybe what she felt for her fiancé wasn’t true love after all. 

“Now I know better, Gabby. And when I look back I know there were signs. You know I am not that comfortable with my Veela nature…” Fleur started, only to be interrupted by her sister, “you still deny who you really are…” Gabrielle says, hurt at what she still perceives to be a personal rejection. The entire Delacour clan takes Fleur’s refusal to accept her Veela heritage as a deeply personal rejection. 

“I don’t want my life pre-determined, Gabby. You know what happens if I accept the responsibility of my heritage. It is different for me.” 

“You mean to say that you are the true heir of the Delacour Veela clan? You make it sound like you are cursed, when you are in fact royalty. You deny your Veela, your nature, your family, because you don’t like that you have a responsibility to your community? A duty to your people?” 

“I want a choice! I will not relinquish my right to choose my own path because of ancient folklore.” And too worn out by having to rehash hers and Bill’s story yet again, Fleur says decisively, “and I will not continue to explain myself to you and our family. Now, do you want me to finish this goddamn story?”

Her sister lying back down on her lap is the only sign that Fleur gets to continue, so she does. “Now I know there were signs, the Veela went from ecstatic to angry, enraged. I mistook anger for passion. Our lovemaking was full of angst. It was unfulfilling. I assumed that it was due to the fact that it was my first time and I didn’t really know what I was doing. But as it kept being unfulfilling, I realized that I had made a mistake. Bill was not my mate.”

“Why didn’t you tell Bill immediately after you learned?” Gabrielle asked even though she had already asked that question many times before. “I don’t know. At the time, I convinced myself that I couldn’t take that away from him. He was so happy and proud to be my mate that I couldn’t bear to break his heart. After that, I convinced myself that it didn’t really matter. I did love him and I was happy... at least or those first couple of years.” 

“But as the years went by, the Veela became more cruel, meaner, towards both Bill and I. I started to self-harm, and ignore Bill and his advances. He started questioning me about being my mate, started telling me that I had lied so as to trick him into marrying me. An accusation he even made publicly several times. Even with all of this, I still couldn’t tell him that he wasn’t my mate. Confessing felt like giving up and just accepting that we had wasted our lives together due to my stupid mistake. So he decided to take it in his own hands and put it all to a test. He starting cheating on me.”

While she was truly ashamed by her mistake, and she accepted her responsibility in her failed marriage, talking about Bill’s cheating always breaks her heart all over again. Theirs was a failed marriage but she always thought that they were friends. That he had the same love for her as she had for him, even if they were never quite in love with each other. But Bill knew what happens to a jilted Veela, he knew what would happen to her if her mate were to leave her for another after they had completed their bonding, and yet, he took the chance. He tried to kill her. 

When it became clear that not only had she not died, but worse, wasn’t even aware of the cheating until Bill confessed, three months into this new relationship, they divorced, and she moved back to Paris. 

“What if what I felt when I met Patrick was just nerves, like when you met Bill?” Gabrielle asked. 

“Were you just about to join a resistance movement, what many thought was a suicide mission, when you met Patrick?” Fleur asked mocking her sister, her mouth curling into a wicked grin. 

“No…you ass.” Gabrielle answered but she was also smiling. “Then I think you are safe.” Fleur concluded.

The two sisters sat on the couch, in amiable silence as Gabrielle calmed down from her panic attack and Fleur recovered from retelling the story. 

“Do you think you would have made that mistake if you didn’t reject your connection to your Veela?” Gabrielle asked. “No,” Fleur answered, she knew this was her own fault, it was her rejection of her true nature that had gotten her into this situation, “I didn’t… honestly, I still don’t know how to listen to it. Its like a separate foreign being and now I think it hates me.” 

Gabrielle looked at her sister, and for the first time since entering the apartment, really looked at her sister, and asked, “are you okay? You seem…different.” 

“I am fine,” Fleur answered, way too quickly for it to be true. The rawness of the storytelling unearthing concerns she had put away. “I just had a weird weekend with my Veela again.”

“What do you mean?” Gabrielle asked. 

Fleur started, “I had someone over this weekend,” and ignoring her sisters eye roll and judgment, she continued, “and the Veela… was…uhm… very submissive. I felt compelled to…uhm…”

“You were fucked, a lot, weren’t you?” Gabrielle asked, wicked glint in her eyes. 

“Merlin, Gabrielle!”

“Oh, cut it out! Don’t be such a prude! If you accepted your Veela more you wouldn’t feel embarrassed to discuss your sexuality with another Veela.” Gabrielle explained. 

“You are not another Veela, you are my younger sister.” Fleur interjected. 

“I gave mom a blow by blow of mine and Patrick’s first time together. Where I was also… as you put it… very submissive. Like several times.” Gabrielle continued, laughing at the embarrassed look her older sister gave her. “At one point, I was submissive while we were upside down…”

“Oh, stop it!” Fleur said, as she smacked her sister. But they were both laughing. 

“But why is that bothering you?” Gabrielle asked. 

“My Veela… I… we… tend to be very… dominant. I was never the submissive one, not even with Bill. But with,” and while she would never kiss and tell, she suddenly felt she couldn’t wait to share her weekend with her sister, “Hermione, I submitted. Easily. I would have done anything for her, to her, with her…” Fleur smiled as her thoughts drifted back to the past weekend. 

“Well, at least you submitted to the Golden Girl. I have certainly submitted to worst,” The younger sister joked both sisters brimming with joy.

“But seriously, how was it?” Gabrielle asked, delighted to be having this conversation with her sister. Fleur always shied away from talking about her personal life. It was always so filled with shame and regret. 

“Oh Gabby, it was good, so good, it was… transcendent… beautiful.” Fleur said, smile and a faraway look on her face.

“How did it happen?” Gabrielle asked, now wanting all the details of her sister’s weekend. As Fleur told the story, this new one, one without shame and guilt, Gabby was enraptured by her sister’s happiness, by her joy at relaying every detail. 

It was a story of beautiful ball gowns and drinks, commendations and flirtations, kissing and lovemaking. It was a story filled with satisfied moans, selfless and adventurous lovemaking, and orgasmic laughter. As she listened to her sister, carefree in a way she had never seen her before, Gabby fell deep in thought, both excited and absolutely terrified by the theory forming in her head. 

In the following several hours, the mood shifted between the sisters, and it became playful and calming. Panic, shame, and mistakes forgotten, at least for now. They shared dinner, discussed wedding plans, and work. At the end of the evening, before leaving, Gabrielle stopped, suddenly curious about a part of the Bill story she had never asked about. 

“Fleur, who else was there?”

“What do you mean?” Fleur asked, walking back from the kitchen after having cleared the table. “At Grimmauld Place, when you met Bill.” 

“Oh… I don’t really remember… but I think most of the Order: Professor Dumbledore, Charlie, Fred and George, their parents were there, I believe. I think Hagrid was there as well, but I think he was at the back. Tonks, was there with some Aurors...”

“Was Hermione there?” Gabby asked. “I think so, it would make sense.” Fleur answered, this time a little reluctantly, as she turned to look at her sister.

“And where was Hermione… that evening?” Gabby asked, hoping to get some more information to build out her theory. 

“Uhm, not sure, kitchen maybe…” At that exact moment, Fleur felt like she was punched in the gut. She didn’t like where her sister was leading her. Taking a deep breath and willing herself back into ignorance, she asked her sister, “what are you getting at?”.

“And she was a minor, at the time, wasn’t she?” Gabby asked, undeterred by her sister’s anger.

Fleur crossed her arms, both as a shield and as a way to hold herself together, refusing to give in, to think too hard on this, she was done having this conversation. This could not be happening. 

“She was, wasn’t she…” Gabby concluded. Feeling more confident that she was right. She continued, “she must have been what, sixteen, which means that the bond was weak. So your attraction to William would have clouded the pull.” Gabby explained. 

Veela’s are only able to fully feel their mate once they are both of age. 

This is a natural evolution, done to protect the Veela and their mate from the powerful bonding magic but also because the way the Veela are able to find their mate is through their mate’s magic and wizarding laws prohibit the use of magic by underage witches and wizards. 

“Hermione was underage, there would have been no pull.” Fleur said, anger evident in her tone at her sister’s conclusion, posture rigid, but even to her ears that sounded weak. Everyone knew that the Golden Trio were practicing magic years before they came of age. 

And it is that shared knowledge that Gabby relied on to state, “there would have been a pull, Fleur, a weak one, one that could be clouded by a strong attraction, like the one you felt for Bill, but there would have been a pull. It explains how your Veela knew where the house was. It explains it trying to transform, pushing against you.”

The sisters just stood in silence. Fleur then walked away from her sister, to the kitchen sink, and resting her hands on the both sides of the sink, took deep, shaky breaths. Gabby gave her sister some space, and returned the couch. 

After waiting almost an hour for her sister to join her in the living room, Gabby slowly made her way to the kitchen, where Fleur was sitting on the floor, crying. She sat opposite from her sister and waited. And after what felt like an eternity, Fleur spoke,

“The Veela got angrier the longer I stayed in the living room, I thought it was angry that I wasn’t alone with Bill. But now I know it was angry that I was in the wrong room. Mia was in the kitchen, with Harry, I now remember hearing her voice.”

Fleur sobbed, and Gabby held her, waiting for her to continue. 

“Things got worse with Bill after the war. I had assumed this happened due to the fact that, without the war, Bill and I didn’t have anything in common anymore. That what bonded us had ended. But… but,” Fleur started sobbing again, so Gabby finished for her, “Hermione turned eighteen. And your Veela could no longer love another.”

Fleur cried, ashamed at failing her Veela again. Embarrassed by yet another major life-threatening error; feeling utterly ridiculous for not having realized this before now. 

She knew her connection to Hermione was strong and powerful. It was what healed the young witch at Shell Cottage. When Hermione arrived she was irreparably injured. But Fleur’s and Hermione’s magic came together, naturally, effortlessly, forming a deep bond that healed the witch’s physical and emotional wounds. 

Those five days, the five days she spent locked in a room with Hermione, magically healing the witch were the happiest she could remember ever being. In the midst of war, torture, and pain, she and Hermione talked, and laughed and healed. They were content. 

She always attributed their closeness post-war to that experience. She justified their closeness as a logical consequence of having shared magic in the way they did, so intimately. Fleur had always thought Hermione was beautiful, the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. And the blonde was naturally flirtatious, so she assumed that the lingering looks, the times she thought about Hermione at less than appropriate times were all just lust heightened by friendship, respect, and admiration. 

She was such a fool for not having seen what was so obviously in front of her all these years. 

“Gabby, I am scared.” Fleur sadness and terror lacing her every word.

“The bonding process has begun, hasn’t it?” Gabby asked, though she knew the answer. The transcendent, submissive sex her sister described was what had rooted this idea in her mind. 

The Veela engage in power plays during bonding, as a way to evaluate whether its chosen mate is worthy of a lifetime commitment. If the mate is found unworthy, the Veela can walk away from the bond and is free to love another- though they will never truly bond with anyone else. 

If the mate is found worthy, the bond is complete. 

The first stage of bonding is complete submission.

And as her sister cried, Gabby did the only thing she could do and held her sister as she fell apart.


End file.
